


Teaser

by Evaine



Series: The Jamie and Squirt Chronicles [8]
Category: Metallica
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-07
Updated: 2011-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-22 08:36:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evaine/pseuds/Evaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things can be um... uncomfortable... when a certain someone knows all your buttons and how to push them.  (Written: March 2005)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teaser

**Author's Note:**

> I love the video of Until It Sleeps. I think it's got to be one of the sexiest things I've ever seen - apparently someone else does too.

I growled. Little fucker knew all too well what he was doing to me. I could see it in his kohl-rimmed eyes. Laughter. Fucking laughter and an invitation. Damn him! How did he know which buttons to push before I even knew they existed?

It had been this way since the beginning of the shoot. It hadn’t occurred to me that this video was going to end up being so damned erotic. Of course, with both Kirk and Lars eagerly adding input, I should have known it’d be headed that way. The two of them were on a tear, getting everyone, including Jason, in an uproar with their so-called shocking behaviour. Poking the public, Kirk called it. It was my slightly considered opinion that they just liked causing shit. Someone had called them The Terror Twins the other day, and I found the name extremely fitting – especially if Jason’s reaction was anything to go by. He was horrified, though he never dared voice much in the way of disagreement, other than to shake his head and claim it just wasn’t metal. I, however, had become very fond of Lars’ new sultry, leather look.

And that was the problem today. I shoved my hands in the pockets of my pants and shifted my hardening cock to a more comfortable position. Snarky fucker! Why’d he have to walk around with the damned button on the damned leather pants undone and no fucking underwear on? Because he bought them a size too small, I answered myself with a mental snort. Too damned proud of that tight, little ass of his, he was. And probably because he knew I’d be unable to take my eyes off him. Sometimes it’s a fucking pain in the ass to have a show-off as a lover, especially one that knows exactly what to show off.

As I watched the filming continue, safely shadowed behind the cameras, I was reminded of the previous night when he’d shown up in my room with the fucking feather boa. How he’d smuggled it out from under the wardrobe mistress’ hawk eyes, I’ll never know, but I wouldn’t have put it past him to have just told her he was taking it for his latest sexual experiments and to bill him for it if it didn’t come back. Well, it hadn’t and he would have to explain that expense to the accountants, not me. Damn, who’d have thought feathers could cause such havoc?

I bit my lip, hard, as he tossed his head to the side in time with the blaring music, baring his neck, his back arched. I longed to sink my teeth into that exposed skin, run my tongue along the curve, knowing it would elicit a gasp of pleasure from him. Again and again, the director made him repeat the move and each time I could taste the flavour of his skin on my tongue, despite him being twenty feet away from me. He ran his hands through his wavy hair after one take and gave me that grin. The grin that told me he knew exactly what was going on in my mind and was enjoying every fucking minute of it. Every button - he knew every goddamned button.

The red shit. The red body paint. He’d always had a fondness for bright colours. And he loved red. I could barely breathe as I watched the girl stroke her hands over him, over his face, over his shoulders, over his chest… leaving startling colour in her sensuous wake. My hands had moved over him just like that the previous night, making him purr and stretch, just like a lazy cat. I had learned that early on; he loved to be petted. Just as he was loving it now. I could tell by the way his eyes fluttered beneath his closed eyelids and the growing bulge beneath the leather. My thoughts continued on past the girls’ hands, drifting lower, over his belly, dancing lightly along the curve beneath his navel above the tantalisingly unbuttoned waistband. My hands itched to feel his soft skin beneath them, feel the faint smattering of hair gradually thickening the lower I went. I groaned under my breath, swearing I could feel the heaviness of his cock slipping into my hands.

“Cut! That’s it. We’re good.” The director’s voice jerked me from my thoughts. Thank God! I don’t think I could have taken any fucking more without making a total fool of myself. Trying to calm my erratic breathing at least somewhat, I watched as he kissed the costumed girl on the cheek and muttered something that made her laugh softly. Damned flirt. He flirted with everyone. Spreading the joy that was Lars, he’d told me once with a wry laugh - didn’t mean much, he’d shrugged. I couldn’t help but be possessive of him though. What was mine was mine and that’s all there was to it. He just had to be careful how much of himself he gave to other people.

“We’ll finish up with the performance scene tomorrow, people,” the director said, dismissing us with a wave of his hand. “Good work.”

Great! Could we get out of here now? Could we at least get somewhere alone? My dick was throbbing almost painfully after all that.

“Gotta do some pictures now.” He stood directly in front of me, looking up, his green eyes sparkling, bright even amidst all the red. I wondered if the body paint was edible, stifling the urge to lick the underside of that full bottom lip and find out.

“Fuck,” I cursed under my breath. He took a step closer and his hand drifted tantalizingly over the swelling in my pants, the motion shielded by his body from the rest of the room. I growled deep in my throat. He grinned impishly, one eyelid dropping in a lazy wink. “Cocktease.” I muttered and he chuckled.

“I know.” He spun on his heel and walked away, making sure to give me a good look at his leather-clad ass. God, I wanted to bite it! I shoved my hands deeper in my pockets to relieve whatever pressure I could, vowing to start buying looser pants but knowing full well I wouldn’t.

I watched him cavort about with Kirk as the photographer snapped picture after picture, the two of them putting on their show for the public. I had to admit, the two of them made a sexy pair when they wanted to. I’d never dared ask if they’d ever fucked – I didn’t want to know the answer. If they had, it would have meant more to him than a simple roll in the hay and I suspected that would hurt too much. I had vowed not to hurt anymore after Cliff’s death. No one would hurt me again. I wouldn’t give them the power. So I never asked.

“Don’t wait for me, I’m not going back to the hotel,” Kirk announced once the photographer had finished his last roll of film. He waved a hand in my direction and strode off to join two of the extras from the shoot who waited for him on the other side of the set.

“Don’t be late in the morning,” Lars called after him, heading towards me. Kirk waved again and disappeared.

“You done now?” I asked roughly as he reached my side. I was aroused, I was annoyed by the track my thoughts had taken during the photo shoot and I wanted a drink, never a good combination. He turned that wide green gaze up at me, surprised by the hard tone of my voice I think, the sensual playfulness fading from his paint-covered features.

“Yeah, we’re done,” he said, a flicker of something deep in his eyes. Hurt? Damn! I’d done it again. Would I never learn?

“I’m sorry, Squirt,” I said quietly as we turned to head across the almost deserted set to the dressing rooms. “I guess I’m just tired and cranky.” I wanted to bring the smile back to his face – needed to bring it back. “Sustaining a boner all afternoon tends to wear on my patience, you know.” Joking Het, tried and true, hopefully it would work this time.

“Hmmmph.” He gave me a quick sideways glance, one red eyebrow raised, his mouth pursed thoughtfully. Had we been alone, I would have bent over and kissed that mouth, red crap and all; but as it was, I could only clap him companionably on the shoulder. I squeezed slightly, hoping he could read the meaning of the gesture.

“I suppose we’ll have supper in tonight?” He said after a long moment. We had reached to doorway to the dressing rooms by this time and I paused to let him step ahead of me. A quick glance over my shoulder. No one looking? Good. I reached down and gave his ass a quick, hard squeeze that made him yelp.

“I’m buying.” I grinned as he turned back to glare at me. He bit his lip, those oh-so-eloquent eyes beginning to sparkle with mischief once again. He hooked his thumbs through the belt hoops of his pants, pulling them even lower to give me just a glimpse of soft dark hair and cocked his head to one side. He raised his chin slightly and smiled. “Cocktease,” I muttered fondly under my breath as my pants became suddenly very tight once again.

“Uh-huh.” He grinned impudently. “Cocksucker.”

“Payback’s a bitch, Squirt,” I warned, letting my eyes trail over his tight, compact frame, lingering over the low-slung waistband.

“I’m counting on it, Jamie.”

Cocky little fucker.

**Author's Note:**

> This scenario has been in the back of my mind forever - even before I wrote "I'll Deal". Thank you, Aramis, for beta-ing for me! And thanks to Lisa as well!


End file.
